


Dandy In Your Ghetto

by TriplePirouette



Series: (s)Aints [2]
Category: Operation: Endgame (2010), Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Bloodplay, Cannibalism, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She brought her right hand up behind her, running her fingers through his hair as she rubbed back into him. “Why do you need to kill him?”</p><p>He chuckled, the feeling reverberating through his chest and into hers. “Need to?” His tongue snaked out, tasting her skin. “I want to.” </p><p>How my versions of Hiero and Ives met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dandy In Your Ghetto

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Smutty Cannibal fic. So, yeah. All that implies. ALL THAT IMPLIES. Seriously. I almost went overboard. I also feel compelled to add that I address Hiero's religious beliefs here, there is no desire or intent to offend ANY religion or belief system. 
> 
> Also, this if for Kelly, who has talked me through fits and shown me the ways of using Tumblr. Without her, I would have never even watched Ravenous or Operation: Endgame, never mind trying my hand at Hiero/Ives. So, this is for her. Title is a song lyric from (s)Aint by Marilyn Manson

 

Hiero was pissed. Pissed. They'd sent another assassin. She'd already done three kills. Three beautiful, clean kills, and they didn't trust her. She's spotted him the second day as she tailed her target: he had a neatly trimmed beard and longer hair, his eyes were dark and though he seemed polite enough, she could tell.

 

One killer could always spot another.

 

There were two options: they'd sent him, or someone else had. If they'd sent him, then he knew who she was and hopefully he'd only step in if something went wrong. If someone else sent him, then she had a competition on her hands, and perhaps another assignment.

 

Hiero shifted in her chair at the coffee shop, primly sipping at the cappuccino in front of her, one eye on the target sitting at his computer by the window in the building across the street. Just at the edge of her vision she could see her tail watching her, pretending to read the paper, the top corner bent just enough that his eyes could flit over the edge every few seconds to glance between the target and her.

 

She could go right up to him, talk to him, and feel it out.

 

Hiero licked her lips, watching how his fingers slipped over the edges of the pages, how his eyes raked over the words when he wasn't looking at her. He looked up and caught her gaze. After a second of something dark he smiled wolfishly. Hiero returned the smile with a tight lipped smirk, standing and sashing out of the coffee shop, her skirt riding high on her thighs as she swung her hips with just a little more effort than usual.

 

She didn't see him again until that night. She was clothed in a sheathe of a dress, short and tight and just the way her target liked his women: with her breasts pushed up and together in a bra that was more magic than anything. She smiled into the bathroom mirror, reapplying her bright red lipstick, taking a second to caress the cross in her bag that usually hung around her neck. He wasn't into religion, but she might make him see the light before he took his last breath.

 

She ran her hands over the dress. The black fabric wouldn't show the blood spatter, and her hair was already pulled up and back, nice and tight. She wouldn't have much clean up tonight, get in and out and away from whoever it was that was following her, and for that she was grateful.

 

A stall door creaked, and before she knew it, a strong arm was slung around her shoulders, pulling her back tight to a body that felt like more of a brick wall than man. His voice made a chill shiver up her spine. “What are you doing?”

 

She smiled brightly into the mirror, recognizing the man who had been following her. “Reapplying my lipstick. And you?” Her voice was light, conversational. She played up her accent, let her eyes sparkle at him in the reflection.

 

His nose drifted up the back of her neck, sniffing lightly. She squirmed in his arms, the hairs of his beard tickling her. “He's mine.”

 

Every muscle in her body tensed. He wasn't with the agency, he was here for someone else. She could just tell by his eyes, how territorial he was... it was personal. “And who told you that?”

 

Their eyes met in the mirror, a smile blooming on his face. “So you're here on orders, then? An assassin?”

 

With a speed she knew he didn't think she possessed, she bent her right knee, lodging her spiked heel in his crotch, close enough to threaten, but not yet doing any damage. “Takes a killer to know one,” she sang sweetly.

 

His teeth nibbled her earlobe, his fingers splayed across her shoulder, his free hand slowly caressed over her hip and across her stomach. Somehow his grip went from threatening to an erotic embrace in the span of seconds. Her foot dropped, just a bit, caressing his thigh as she sighed. “Yes,” his voice dripped out, heavy and full of darkness. “Yes it does.”

 

She brought her right hand up behind her, running her fingers through his long hair as she rubbed back into him. “Why do you need to kill him?”

 

He chuckled, the feeling reverberating through his chest and into hers. “Need to?” His tongue snaked out, tasting her skin. “I want to.”

 

His words made her shiver, a shuddering breath pouring out as she turned quickly in his arms, pressing her body tight against his, her hands grasping his jaw. “Then let me kill him. I need to. I want to, but I also need to. It's my job.” She darted forward, nibbling his bottom lip before sliding her lips along his cheek to his ear. “If you're good, I'll let you watch.”

 

He groaned, taking her ass in both palms and pulling her tight against him, rubbing their bodies together so she could feel him, his tongue taking tiny licks at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, but I've been looking forward to this for ages, pet.”

 

Hiero kissed him, hard. Tongues and teeth clashing, she nicked his tongue with her sharp incisor. His gasp made her pull away, but she was fascinated as he watched her with a desperate hunger as she licked his drop of blood from her lips. “He'll get suspicious,” she whispered, running her hand up his chest, “but if you wait outside for me...” She smiled, stepping away and smoothing her dress, “maybe I'll let you help.” She leaned in again, laving her tongue across his lips. “What's your name?”

 

He pulled her close again, tangling his tongue with hers fiercely before he pushed her back, licking his lips. “Call me Ives, Hiero.” It should have surprised her that he knew her name, but it didn't. She smiled, backing out of the bathroom slowly, his intense gaze burned in her mind.

 

The next time she saw him he was standing quietly in their mark's kitchen waiting for her, a breeze from the open window he'd used for entry still fluttering through the room. She sashayed past him, reaching for the wine glasses she'd been sent to get. “How are you going to do it?” he asked, burying his nose in the twist at the nape of her neck, his fingers digging into her hips.

 

“I haven't decided,” she whispered back, leaning back into his embrace. This felt good, it felt right. It felt like a pair on a hunt. She barely knew him, but she knew he had her back, and even if he turned on her afterwards, the idea of these strong arms waiting for her in the kitchen, ready if something went wrong, made her feel good.

 

Too good.

 

Sinfully good.

 

He pulled her tight against him, his hand slipping to cup between her legs through her dress. She would have protested, but she liked it too much. “Are you going to fuck him first?”

 

Hiero took the hand that wasn't between her legs and took his first two fingers into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the long digits, sucking and licking and swallowing until she heard him try to cover a gasp. She slipped them out slowly, “Would that turn you on?”

 

“Did you find them?” came the target's bright voice from the living room before Ives could answer, causing them both to freeze.

 

Hiero cleared her throat, standing a little straighter as she called out. “Yup, just got them. Sorry I was checking my voice mail messages,” she looked Ives in the eyes, a sultry look slipping over her face, “I just got a interesting proposition from a friend.”

 

His smile was predatory, his hips bucked into her ass. Their target called back. “Oh? A male friend?”

 

Hiero shimmied out of his arms, sliding against him more than was necessary before smiling wickedly while she picked up the wine glasses on the counter. “Oh, nothing for you to worry about.” She walked out of the room slowly, pulling back the facade she'd so carefully created for this man. She laughed internally as she approached the back of him on his couch. He didn't even turn to look. So trusting. This would be too easy.

 

She rounded the couch with a practiced smile to sit down on the table across from her target. He returned her fake sentiment, though his smile was genuine. Oh, the poor man had no idea. She held out the glasses, waiting as the soon to be dead man poured the wine. She handed him a glass with a smile, taking the bottle from him and putting it on the table behind her. She tried not to let her eyes glance up to where Ives was soundlessly stalking into the room behind the couch. She clicked glasses with the man before her, a thrill shivering through her body as they both took a sip. Ives slipped right behind him, rising his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Heiro didn't betray his position, but just smiled wider and stood. She slipped her knees forward, straddling her mark. “You're wonderful, you know.” Hiero spoke to her mark, untying his tie as she did so, but she hoped that Ives understood the words were for him. “I've never met anyone like you.” She slipped the silk free of his collar, dragging it through her teeth before she tossed it aside. Just at the side of her vision she could see Ives' hands gently come to rest on the back of the couch.

 

She pressed her hands to her mark's chest before slipping her fingers to the buttons of his shirt, slowly opening each one to bare his skin. “When I'm with you, I feel wild. Uninhibited. Right.” She opened his shirt, dragging her fingers down his chest, turning her right ring finger and running the sharp edge of her nail down hard, breaking the skin and drawing blood.

 

“Ow!” he cried, looking down at her and moving to cover the cut with his hands.

 

Hiero put on her best surprised face. “Oh, I'm so sorry! I must have a hang nail, I'm so embarrassed!” She leaned down, kissing his chest, then darting out her tongue to lick the drops of blood away. While he kept his eyes trained on the back of her head, Hiero looked up, her eyes meeting Ives' hungry gaze. “We've only known each other for a little while,” she whispered, slurping at the cut flesh, “but I've never felt something so right.”

 

She continued to lick as their mark dropped his head to her shoulder, kissing her. But she didn't feel it, barely registered it. Instead, she kept her attention on Ives as he reached out with two nimble fingers, careful not to touch the moaning man beneath her, and grasped her wrist. He lifted it up, taking her bloody finger in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. He slowly slipped his lips from her digit, planting a chaste kiss on the corner of her nail that she deliberately kept sharp.

 

Hiero let out a ragged breath, rising up on her knees and nearly shoving her chest in her victim's face as she nuzzled noses with Ives over his head. It was a delicious tension, this psychopathic foreplay, their mark didn't even know what was about to hit him. “Break his neck,” she whispered in Ives' ear with a quick lick before she lowered herself to the mark's lap, smiling evilly.

 

“What did you say?” The mark asked, dazed as his eyes strayed to her cleavage.

 

“Do you know God?” Hiero questioned lightly, sliding her hands up over his shoulders. “Are you ready to accept him into your life?”

 

The man below her stuttered, the erection that she'd felt on her thigh waning. “I- what?”

 

“They lady wants to know if you have a god,” Ives said, taking the man's head in his hands as he panicked, his eyes widening as Hiero held him down, Ives smiling, “because you're about to meet him.”

 

It was over before she could even register it, his head hanging at an awkward angle, the breath rushing past his lips without the scream he had been reaching for. Ives growled, his hands darting from the dead man to slide beneath her arms, lifting her to kneel on the back edge of the couch, holding her tight to him as their mouths melded into one, hands roaming and the dead man's head lolling between her legs.

 

He tore his mouth away, holding her jaw with both hands. “You're spectacular,” he breathed out, looking at her in awe.

 

She turned her head and bit his thumb lightly, worrying her teeth on the flesh before soothing it with her tongue, watching as he stared intently. An odd glint took over her eyes, her voice a cold, dark whisper in the quiet apartment. “I'm sitting on his face.”

 

With a growl he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her easily over the edge and setting her on her feet, pushing her around to sit on the arm of the couch. He pressed into her, lifting her off her feet and wrapping her legs around him, her heels slipping from her feet and clamoring to the floor as he flexed his hips up into hers. She dropped her head back, groaning as his mouth attacked her neck, his teeth nibbling and nipping up and down the side.

 

Her hands clawed at the back of his shirt, pulling around to the front and tearing at the edges, ripping the buttons from their holes with none of the care she showed for the dead man's shirt. With a savage pull, she tore the last few buttons but tipped them off balance, pulling Ives down on her, the both of them into the corpse's lap.

 

Ives pressed his hands down into the couch and lifted his head, the man's cooling torso to his right, Hiero's hair falling from it's style as she wriggled in the corpse's lap beneath him. She saw the decision as plain as day when he made it: a change happening in his shoulders and his eyes. He leaned down and kissed her sweetly, surprising her with the gentle touch of his lips. Before she had much chance to reciprocate he pulled away. There was almost fear in his eyes as he turned toward the man's torso, slowly bearing his teeth, and with a careful move, drove them in, tearing a chunk of skin and muscle from the man's abdomen.

 

Her eyes widened as she watched, pinned beneath him, as he chewed and swallowed. A shiver ran down her spine, her legs slipped from his hips.

 

A drop of blood slipped from his lips, landing on her chin.

 

The only sound was their breath, hers shuddering in and out, his slipping lightly over his lips, the tension more uncomfortable than the corpse they sprawled over. Hiero was conflicted. Bible verses screamed though her head, her heart clenched and her throat stuck.

 

But thou shat not kill was a commandment, too, and she knew her God forgave her because it was what she was good at, the blessing He gave to her to help humanity. God wouldn't make this feel so right, so good, if He didn't want it. He wouldn't have put this man in her path if it was wrong, if it was a sin.

 

She heard her mother's voice screaming about the Devil tricking and deceiving. Perhaps this man was the devil. Perhaps he was evil embodied.

 

Perhaps she had lived by the cross hanging around her neck, by her mother's voice and her pastor's wishes, for far too long.

 

Hiero slipped her hand up his back and tangled it in his hair. Holding his eyes, she darted her tongue out, licking the drop of blood from her just beneath her lip. She leaned up, laving his mouth with hers, sipping each drop of sticky red from his mouth and chin and the soft hairs of his beard. She pulled away, held his gaze, and leaned over, licking the dead man's cooling wound.

 

His body shuddered as he buried his head in the nape of her neck. His arms slipped behind her, pulling her up and repositioning them until she was in his lap. With a deft kick he sent the corpse teetering off the couch. “Mine,” he rasped, pulling her tight and settling her their hips together. His hands roamed over every inch of her he could reach, his lips traveling down her collarbone and down between her breasts. “Mine.” He was near frantic, his breaths coming hard and fast and his need for her the most exciting thing she'd ever experienced. It fed her own need, her own lust, until they were barely a step away from animalistic, rubbing against each other with groping hands and growling kisses.

 

Hiero reached down, deftly freeing him from his pants and pulling the crotch of her thong aside. She held his eyes, deep and black and hungry for her, as she lowered herself on him. His response was immediate: he thrust up, groaning into her chest as he licked and kissed and nipped at her bouncing cleavage. She clawed the shoulder of his shirt aside, sinking her teeth in the meaty part of his shoulder until she broke the skin, sucking and licking the iron tang down as he drove into her, the muscle beneath her lips flexing with each thrust up, her lips fighting to stay suctioned to his skin with each bounce of her knees.

 

“Oh God, yes. I'm yours,” Hiero moaned as his hand slipped between them, sliding under the lace between her legs and slipping against her flesh until he felt her falter, her breathy moans loud in his ear. She arched in his arms, her back tight and the scream muffled in his shoulder as her body pulsed and contracted around him. He pressed up, grabbing her shoulder tightly as his own orgasm hit him, his hips thrusting out of time, his arm holding her tightly to him until their graceless movements died off to sated caresses.

 

Hiero shivered against his chest, her arms releasing their bruising, clinging grip to roam over his torso. Her hand slipped over his shoulder, down his chest and back up to cup his jaw, her eyes meeting his. She kissed him softly, sweetly with the desperation and need gone for the moment. He was gentle with her, soft. His lips were pliant and sweet but still held the tang of blood. She pulled away with tiny, sipping kisses that left him trailing after her lips.

 

Her hair was wild around her head, blonde crimped curls streaked with dark red. Hiero tried to fix it, tried to make herself a little more presentable, but he pulled her hand away. “You look like the most disheveled, debauched angel I've ever seen.” She stroked her thumb up and down his lower lip, a shy smile lighting up her face, until he caught it with his teeth and growled playfully at her. He released it with a kiss. “Stay for dinner?”

 

She played coy, rolling her shoulder back and looking away. “Well, I did technically already eat dinner.”

 

He took her chin in his hand, his thumb rubbing ver her lower lip. “That asshole ordered you a few pieces of limp lettuce and half a dozen other vegetables cut in silly shapes while he had lobster.” He kissed her hard, dragging the lip he'd just been caressing through his teeth as he puled back. “Let me feed you, let me cook him for you.”

 

She smiled like the cat that had the canary, slipping back off his lap and pressing her dress over her thighs. She reached out, taking the wine glass from the table and taking a sip before she offered it to him, a communion of sorts in her mind as she made her decision. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.” Hiero was wobbly on her feet at first, her muscles like rubber, but Ives reached out a hand to steady her, standing and taking the wine. He took a long drink, then tossed the glass and the dregs of the alcohol to the floor.

 

He leaned in quickly, his tongue laving a long line over her neck. She could feel something sticky being cleaned away and was not surprised a moment later when he pulled away to reveal twinges of red peppering his beard in new places. She'd never dated a man with a beard before, and only ever kissed a few. The thought of beard burn on her thighs, on her breasts, the delicious friction and soft tickle of it, sent warmth rushing through her again. She licked her lips, but he only responded with a light tip of his head and a coy smile.

 

“You should shower, my dear.” Her face crumbled for a moment, but he kissed it away before pulling her tight against him. “You can't leave with blood in your hair.” He licked up the crest of her ear and she moaned. “I'll come join you as soon as I get dinner started.”

 

Hiero nipped at his earlobe, stepping back with a smile. “Don't take too long.” She climbed onto the couch and over the edge to avoid the growing puddle of blood by the body on the floor. She stepped into the hall, looking for the bathroom, but turned and smiled as she watched Ives haul the dead man, a fairly large dead man, into his arms and out to the kitchen like he was no more than a hollow dummy.

 

She took her time in the bathroom as she let her choice sink in. The room itself was nice: tile and marble and a spacious walk in shower with three different shower heads. There was a little open closet with shelves of luxurious towels, baskets of shampoos and hair products and a gleaming glass shower stall door. She gave a curious look at the sparkling toilet, thinking that the man must have a maid to live this clean. Finally Hiero looked at herself in the mirror: she was an absolute mess. Ives had been right, she needed to clean up. She could feel the sticky remnants of their dalliance between her thighs, but blood also clung to her her neck and her hair, her lips were swollen and her cheeks covered in smears of her lipstick.

 

A smile worked it's way through her body with a shiver. She hadn't felt this rush in ages. Even killing hadn't had this kind of power over her in a long time. She felt whole, sated, and oddly protected. Something about that man, who she'd only known a day, called to something within her in a way that she didn't dare question. Holy or evil, ordained or condemned, she found she didn't care.

 

She stripped the lycra dress off, stepping from it and kicking it into the corner. With a happy sigh she unclasped her bra, the padding digging and pressing and far too uncomfortable. She shrugged it off, looking down and wondering if Ives would be disappointed when he saw that most of her cleavage had been an illusion. She tossed the torture device aside, knowing there was nothing to be done for it. She pealed her damp thong off, and decided that even if she'd like to toss it, she didn't care to escape this place or deal with a body sans panties. She ran the scrap of lace under the faucet with hot water and a handful of soap, rinsing it through and wringing it mostly dry with a towel.

 

Hiero hung them on a hook, happy that at least damp and clean panties were better than no panties if things went south. She was leaning over, trying to figure out what each of the shower levers did when the door creaked open.

 

She stood and turned, covering up her body with a towel from the counter. Hiero turned a deep shade of red, her eyes barely able to look at Ives as she clutched the fluffy piece of cloth around her. His shirt was soaked with blood, but his chest and arms and face were washed clean. He smirked at her, toeing off his shoes and pulling her close by the hips. “Shy all of a sudden?”

 

Hiero shrugged, holding one hand on the towel, letting her other drift over the healing scars of where she'd dug her teeth into his flesh. She looked up at him, astonished. “But- I bit you...”

 

He took her hand in his, kissing the tips of her fingers. “The secret of the flesh,” he mumbled against her digits. “No aging, no pain, no sickness to bear.”

 

Her jaw clenched tight and her eyes narrowed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, the towel held in place by their bodies. “You do this a lot?”

 

He tapped his finger on her nose, a small smile on his face. “Yes, dear. It's... become a lifestyle.” She worried her lip, fingers combing through the hairs at the nape of his neck, down through to the edge of his beard and over his chin. His hand drew small circles on her lower back. “What is it, my little assassin? Too much for you to... stomach?”

 

She couldn't hide her little laugh, but she tried anyway. “I... I was always such a good girl. Raised Catholic. And you?”

 

She watched his eyes take her in and saw the moment he understood how badly she needed his reassurance. “I can barely remember, dear. But faith never brought me any comfort, that I do remember.”

 

“And this does?” Hiero didn't feel like herself, she didn't feel like the confident assassin in his arms. She felt like a child ready to be devoured by the big bag wolf.

 

He leaned down, kissing her soundly. “It brings me life,” he murmured against her lips. “My good little girl.” he took another kiss, walking her until her back pressed up against the cold tile wall next to the shower. “My little angel, the Hierophant, taking pity on this damned monster.”

 

His fingers started working on the towel between them, slowly peeling it from her body, while her hands pushed his shirt from his shoulders. Her words were strong as if she'd recited this to herself often. “No one's damned unless they want to be. Everyone can achieve salvation. Even as an assassin, I kill for pure reasons. He blesses me.”

 

“And me?” He asked, finally pulling the towel from between them, his hands roaming over the creamy flesh of her back and hips.

 

“If you ask for forgiveness-” Her words faltered and she moaned when his hand cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing a nipple. “If you see your actions as part of His plan-” She moaned again, high pitched and breathy as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. She wrapped herself around him, words lost and eyes screwed tightly shut as his hand drifted away.

 

“You'll have to pray for me, my dear. I'm afraid I've forgotten how.” He got down on one knee, dropping kisses down her sternum and sweeping his beard over the soft flesh beneath her breasts before claiming a nipple with his mouth, teasing it between his lips before tickling it with his tongue. “I worship you, my archaic angel, you can bless me.”

 

“But that, that's...” Her fingers fisted in his hair, dragging through the long strands, alternately petting him and holding him close. “That's worshiping a false idol.”

 

He dragged his bearded cheek down her stomach, snaking his tongue in her navel and daring lower, nuzzling his nose at the neatly trimmed hair between her legs. “Never. Never a false idol.” She pulled him back up by the ears, his lips dragging over her pale flesh until he was kissing her, long and rough like he could devour her without a single bite. “More real,” his words were were swallowed in her kiss, “than anyone I've known.”

 

Ives pushed himself away, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hands sliding down her arms. His eyes slowly raked over every bare inch of her. “You're beautiful.” Hiero blushed, tilting her head to the side and bringing her elbows in to try to cover her small breasts. “No,” he whispered, taking her hands in his, “don't.”

 

A small smile played at her lips as she tried to keep her arms by her sides, the blush still rising in her skin. He tipped his head, releasing her hand and moving to turn on the shower. “Come on, you still have blood in your hair and dinner will be ready soon.”

 

Hiero plastered herself against his back as he adjusted the temperature, her hands snaking around to undo his belt and unzip his pants, sliding her hands down his legs as she slipped him out of the rest of his clothing. His arm snaked behind him, pulling her along as he stepped into the shower, her surprised screech ringing out in the small room at the water hit her.

 

Ives swung her around out of the spray to stand in front of him, taking the moment to scrub his hair and beard in the warm water. Hiero's hands slid up his chest, working into the strands of tiny hairs around his chin, easing out the clumps of dried blood and flesh. She scrubbed until the water that ran over her hands was clear. He sucked her fingers in his mouth, one by one, scraping with his teeth before he turned her and pulled her back against him, his hardening length against the swell of her ass as his fingers pulled pins from the tangled mess of knots in her hair, coaxing the tangles and blood from her blonde strands.

 

She turned her head and found his lips, their kiss twisted and broken, harsh and desperate, her head nearly upside down. He bit at her lips, swept his tongue down her shoulder, all in the soft patter of the shower as it rained over them, washing away the blood and sweat between them. Hiero slipped her hand back between their bodies, wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking.

 

His hand slipped around her hip, fumbling to find the soft flesh between her thighs as he moaned. It didn't take long for them to find a rhythm, sliding gracelessly against one another under the spray, moaning as the water washed over them and their hands worked frantically. Hiero screamed as her orgasm taking her by surprise, her arm slamming out and shattering the glass door to their left. Ives pulled her into his body and twisted her away from the raining shards of glass, the endorphins slamming through her body from the pleasure and pain mixing as she pulled the bloody arm to her chest, leaning back into him. Her voice whimpered out in shivering moans as Ives carefully turned her towards him, holding her up with one hand as he carefully examined her arm. He pulled a sliver of glass from near her thumb with his teeth, then laved the tiny cuts up and down her arm that bled with his tongue. He licked carefully at each one, the tip of his tongue worrying each edge of flesh, making sure none were too deep, none were too long.

 

Hiero watched him, her panic flipping back into need and want as he cleaned her under the spray. He could have held her hand under the water, could have grabbed a towel, but he cleaned her with his tongue. He took every tiny cut and paid it attention, treated her with more reverence and care than she had ever felt in her life, and she'd known him barely a day. She let her body take over and reached between them again, eyes fastened on his as she took him in hand. She stroked hard and fast, matching the rhythm of each of his licks until he came in her hand, burying his face in the crook of her elbow.

 

They stood for long moments in the cooling water, rivulets of red still running from her arm, until he caught his breath and kissed her soundly. “I think it's time for dinner.” He stepped out first, picking his way across the glass strewn floor to slip his shoes on. He grabbed a towel from the closet and tossed it to Hiero, taking another and quickly swiping it over his skin before tying it around his waist.

 

“Wrap it around your arm,” he ordered when Hiero went to wrap the towel around her body, “You're still bleeding too much... and it's far too tempting.”

 

Hiero pouted, but did as he said after drying the rest of her, holding the towel wrapped arm in front of her though it covered little. With a lascivious grin, Ives held up her nearly dry thong, tossing it to her. She rolled her eyes, but slipped on the band of lace as he carefully stepped back to her. He crooked his finger, and with an ease she wasn't expecting, slung her over his shoulder. At her high pitched squeak he smacked a hand on her ass, carefully making his way out of the steam filled bathroom toward the heady scent of dinner to the sound of her delighted giggle.

 

He fed her on his lap. Tiny pieces of meat he picked cleanly from the bone in the pan before him. When the juices dribbled on his chest, she lapped them up. When he 'accidentally' dripped on her breasts, she had to tear him away before he got carried away. They devoured a large mound of meat between the two of them. A thigh, she imagined, by the way it sat on the bone. Though she never quite came out and asked what it was, she knew where it came from after dinner when he slowly unwound the towel from her left fore arm, wiping the last droplets of blood away to reveal smooth, unmarred flesh.

 

He had her on the counter, standing between her legs as they shared the last of the wine from before by passing the bottle back and forth, desperate to make her his again as he kissed up her healed arm. “We need to clean up,” Hiero whispered, tugging on his hair to pull him from her skin. “And then I can bring you home, like the lost little wolf you are, and you can eat me whole.”

 

The grin he gave her was absolutely predatory, and he snapped playfully at her. Her giggle filled the air and he lifted her hips off the counter and dropped her back to the floor, taking a second to stare at her clad only in the black lacy thong. He growled low in the back of his throat, but pulled her along behind him. He stopped in the bathroom to grab his pants, but didn't stay long enough to put them on. He led her back into the bedroom, the lump beneath the covers not visible but recognizable. He pulled her tight to his side, rummaging through the closet. “We can try to find you something-”

 

She cut him off, reaching past him for a blue and white striped collard shirt that was just a hair longer than the others. He watched, amazed, as she wrapped it around herself, the collar just above her breasts, and buttoned it tightly behind her. She wrapped the sleeves around her waist and tied them sweetly into a bow, the pattern of the fabric hiding the cuffs and details of the shirt and transforming it into a dress. She just laughed at his astounded look. “This isn't my first rodeo, cowboy.”

 

He licked his lips. “I can't wait to take that off of you.”

 

She wrapped herself against him, kissing him swiftly before reaching into the closet for a crisp white button down. “Then let's get this over with, shall we?” She pushed the shirt into his chest, stepping away with a flirty smile.

 

He sat down on the edge of the bed to dress, his loafers coming off before he pulled his boxers and pants on. “Did you have a plan before I showed up?”

 

“Well,” Hiero said happily now that she was clothed as she ran out to the hall way to pick up her heels, “I had a thought.”

 

“And that was?” Ives asked, standing.

 

Hiero trotted back into the room and stood before him, inches taller in her bright red heels, slipping the buttons of his new shirt through their holes. “Bleach out the blood and the shower and anywhere else they might find our DNA,” She kissed him sweetly, patting his chest. “That part's new. Then smash a few more things, just for good measure,” his own dark smile met hers, “and with a little magic, set the whole place on fire.”

 

The bleaching was handed to Ives while she mixed together a special cocktail of household chemicals, though Hiero smiled ever time she heard another crash. He swooped in for a kiss when he reached around her little bowl of chemicals in the kitchen, taking a large bottle of vodka from the cabinet.

 

“Ready when you are, my dear,” he purred, wrapping an arm about her shirt clad waist.

 

It felt so domestic to her, this man with his arm around her while she mixed explosives in a bowl as he nibbled at her neck. She half expected them to go back to her place and snuggle up on the couch and watch the American Idol finale while sharing a glass of wine. She pushed the feeling down, aware that she shouldn't count too far into her future yet as she carefully lifted the bowl from the counter. “Let's go.”

 

She walked slowly to the bedroom, Ives right next to her. Hiero soaked the pillow by the corpse's head in the liquid concoction, tossing the bowl out into the hall and towards the kitchen. Ives busied himself with dousing the surrounding area in vodka, leaving a dribbling trail from the bed to the couch, where he doused the blood pool in alcohol.

 

“Do you have a cigarette?” Hiero called, leaning out of the bedroom.

 

Tossing the empty bottle on the ground, Ives pulled a silver cigarette case from his back pocket, presenting it with a flourish. Hiero curtsied, carefully taking a hand rolled cigarette before he snapped the case closed. She held it to her lips and waited as he flicked the lighter from his pocket to life, lighting it for her.

 

Hiero took a healthy drag, smiling. “I should have known you'd roll your own,” she called back cheekily as she disappeared back into the bedroom. She pulled the top of the comforter back, revealing the grey face at an odd, twisted angle. Carefully she tried to slip the cigarette between the dead man's lips, but it wouldn't stay, and she caught it carefully each time, keeping it away from the soaked sheets.

 

Ives stepped behind her, swinging a switch blade from his pocket. With surgical precision he slipped the sharp edge against the man's throat, took the cigarette from Hiero's fingers, and slid it into the cut, flourishing his hand and swinging the switch blade closed as the cigarette stood up straight and tall, slowly burning down as a time delay fuse.

 

He roughly pulled her close, burying his nose in her nearly dry blonde curls. “Not my first rodeo, either, my little Southern Belle.”

 

She leaned closer, kissed him quickly, then pulled away and grabbed his hand. “Take me home, Ives.”

 

One side of his smile slowly twitched up, his teeth shining whitely and his eyes sparking.

 

They ended up at her home: a tiny apartment in a seedy part of town where anyone walking down the street wouldn't feel comfortable alone. It had never bothered her, though, with one hand on her cross and another on the switchblade in her bag. He pushed her up against the wall in the hall, her key dangling from the lock before she can even twist it, his hands fisting in her hair.

 

With a grunt she pushed on his shoulders, ripping his lips from her skin. They were both breathing heavily, but she's got a twinkle in her eye. “As much as I'd like to do this right here, right now,” he lunged in again, but she pressed a stern hand to his chest, “This place is full of people who'd not only watch... but want to join in.”

 

His eyes morph, a snarl over his lips. “Mine,” Ives growled as he hauled her over to the door, a giggle ringing out from her as she tripped over to his side. He turned the lock quickly, opening the door and hauling her inside to slam her back into it as it closed. “No sharing, not anymore.”

 

It didn't take long. Her shirt dress was on the floor long before they stumbled away from the door, her heels lost somewhere along the way as she backed him into the edge of the couch. His shirt came off near her small shrine, covering the Virgin Mary's eyes. His pants and belt hit the floor in the small hallway, his shoes skidding into the kitchen. She pealed his boxers of at the doorway to her small bedroom, his thumbs sliding into her thong and relieving her of that just before he pushed her back onto her small, bouncy twin bed.

 

There was still desperation, and longing, and the feeling of victory so sweet as it pounded through their veins. It didn't take long before her legs were wrapped around his hips as he pounded into her, two hands holding onto her headboard as she screamed his name, his lips sucking at the pulse in her neck.

 

There was no blood this time, theirs or anyone else's, but the rush, the need, was still there. He came first, restraining himself from biting too hard down on her neck as his hips pistoned erratically into hers. He slipped his hand down between them, rubbing her clit frantically until she came around him, screaming and digging her nails into his shoulders.

 

The bed wasn't wide, leaving them shoulder to shoulder when her rolled off of her, trying to catch his breath. Hiero sighed, turning and rubbing into his side like a cat. “Murder, dinner, a good fuck,” Hiero sighed, a wicked smile on her face as Ives turned to look at her, “You sure know how to show a lady a good time.”

 

He laughed lightly. “Is that what you are, my sweet? A lady?” He reached for the hand she'd placed on his chest, bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

 

Hiero's smile faltered, her lips turned down. She could barely look at him. “Maybe not in the most accepted of definitions, but in my own-”

 

He pressed her hand back to his chest, laying his own over it. “I didn't mean to offend. You are _quite_ a lady.” He waited, but it only took a second or so for the quirk to return to the corner of her lips. “I've never found someone who shared my particular... desires in the way that you do, dear.”

 

Hiero shifted, leaning over him, her blonde hair falling around them to tickle his cheeks. “I have always been a little bit different.” She slung her leg over his hips, leaning back to sit on his thighs, stretching out and arching her back before smiling down at him. “The fighting, the killing, the fucking... some people would probably say I wasn't loved enough, or the right way, but it's just... always been a part of me.”

 

“And the religion?” Ives asked, running his fingers up over her thighs.

 

“Raised on it,” she said thoughtfully, tipping her head to the side. “Mama and Daddy believed, went to church twice a week, sometimes three times. Didn't much have a choice I guess, but it's just... always been a part of me.”

 

Ives sat up, tickling his fingers over her hips and up her ribs. “And the murder? It doesn't... interfere with your beliefs?”

 

She sighed. “You'd be surprised at how much murder is in the Bible when you read it. Perhaps, perhaps it isn't quite the same, what I do and what some of those people did, but the Lord each gives us a talent to use in service of Him, this is mine.”

 

He waited for more, but Hiero didn't move, her expression didn't change, she simply looked at him, stared at him, until he almost felt sorry for asking. “I don't mean to make you upset, I've just... Never. I've never met anyone like you.”

 

That made her smile. It was a small, self-deprecating smile, but it was there none the less. “You're giving me a lot of credit, cowboy. You've only known me a day.”

 

Ives laughed, running his nose up and over her collarbone. “You think I'd kill with you after only knowing you a day? Weeks I've been watching you, and it hasn't been easy. You're good. You're very good.”

 

She pulled away, her eyes wide. “I missed you for weeks? Weeks?” She tried to scramble off his legs, but he held her in place. “Shit... how.. how could I have missed you for weeks?”

 

He waited until she would meet his gaze, and stared into her eyes. “Because you're good. It's taken me... longer than you would believe to get to the point where I can stalk someone and they won't notice.” He took a soft kiss from her lips. “You saw me because I wanted you to.”

 

It took her a moment, she didn't like it, any of it. The idea that she'd missed him following her, stalking her, watching her, sat wrong in her stomach. She wriggled in his arms, slipping out of his embrace and over to the closet. She pulled out a short silk robe, splattered in black and red, and wrapped it around herself, tying it tightly as he watched her. “Way to break the mood,” she lamented, staring at him from across the small room, playing with the tie on her robe.

 

He huffed, sitting up and stroking his beard. “I'm not going to lie to you.”

 

Hiero's eyebrows crinkled together. “You stalked me.”

 

Ives laughed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he threw his hands in the air. “And you stalked the man we killed to night. We _killed a man tonight._ Don't tell me you're going to talk about upstanding morals right now.”

 

She rolled her eyes stepping back to the bed and looking down at him. “Not morals! It's... creepy to start with.” She huffed loudly, looked away and then looked back, her voice a lot less strong. “And embarrassing. I'm obviously not very good at my job if I didn't see you, and I'm supposed to be one of the best in the country- in the world!”

 

He sighed, pulling at her arm until she sat in his lap, looking incredibly young. “I told you, you are one of the best. I've never met anyone better than me.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. “I was looking for some fun, decided I wanted to find a... a friend. I didn't expect to find someone so lovely. So... well matched to me.”

 

Hiero didn't look convinced. Ives sighed, looking around and reaching over to the bedside table, taking the small remote in hand and turning on the small television across from them. He flicked through the stations until he found a local news channel, breaking news flashing across the screen, a picture of the burning building they'd left not so long ago. He turned her until her knees were over his and he was looking over her shoulder. “Do you see that? We did that.” He kissed her shoulder through the thin robe. “You and I went into that apartment, killed that man, ate him, and set the whole place ablaze. And we're both so good, that no one will ever know.”

 

His lips slipped across the back of her neck, tiny kisses until he reached her other shoulder. “You can't tell me it doesn't excite you, the idea of working with someone, the idea of hunting with someone, doesn't thrill you.” He felt her relax in his arms, felt a change start to happen, and he smiled into her neck, his free hand starting to comb through the strands. “That was our baby, Hiero. You and me, together. We did that. I want more of that. I want more of this. I want someone I can trust. I think you're that person.” He pulled at her shoulder, turning her to look in his eyes. “Tell me you're that person.”

 

She stared at him for a minute, then looked back at the television. It was spectacular. The entire evening had been more than she'd hoped, and even though she didn't know much about him, he seemed sincere. She'd spent almost her entire life trusting no one but the saints and her faith, she needed to make a change. Hiero looked back at Ives, taking his hand in hers. “Will you teach me? Will you teach me to be better?”

 

He nodded, a smile teasing his lips and hope shining in his eyes. “Yes.”

 

She bit her lip, her eyes drifting to his beard. “I... I don't know that I want to eat anyone again, though. Blood I... I'm alright with that but...” She shrugged, suddenly shy. “I was trying to be a vegetarian.”

 

He laughed, burying his nose in her hair. “I won't make you eat anyone, as long as you don't mind if I indulge. Though,” he kissed her shoulder, licking just the tiniest bit before pulling away, “there are benefits you should be made aware of before you make that decision.”

 

Hiero leaned over and claimed his lips sweetly, Their kiss was soft, unhurried. He moaned as she pulled away just enough to nuzzle her nose through the hairs across his chin. “I'm that person,” she whispered. She smiled brightly at him, leaning into his embrace.

 

Sitting on the lap of a cannibal, her hunger sated by human flesh and her body sated by his, with her freshest kill being broadcast on the television across from her, Hierophant found she had never been happier.

 


End file.
